


The Gift

by ayramoon



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Enemy Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Love/Hate, Past Relationship(s), Revenge, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26198920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayramoon/pseuds/ayramoon
Summary: Does anyone really leave the outlaw life? Does your past ever let you go? Not for Mrs Clara McCree. When her past finally catches up to her, memories also flood back. No-one really leaves the Van Der Linde Gang.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s), Arthur Morgan/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	1. Yellow Ribbon

Chapter One.

Do you ever really leave a gang? Does the price on your head ever really go away even if you run all the way east to hide in plain sight? Well... It worked to me. I still think back to the times I ran with the Van Der Linde Gang, being an ‘Outlaw’ so to speak. Yeah, I did some questionable things but they weren’t ever the reason I left. The reason, well, it all started with a gift. One small gesture.

* * *

“Miss Belle, What about this one?” I turned around to see the shopkeeper holding a black leather hat. Sturdy in shape. It was missing something though.

“That one is perfect. I guess it should be, we have been doing this for well over an hour.” I returned, swiftly wandering across the shop, arms outstretched ready the receive the hat in my own hands.

“He must be pretty special.” My face flushed, my palms began to sweat. Why was I so nervous?! I mean, I hadn’t seen him a few days, he was out of camp most of the time. Probably on runs. Not the end of the world though. I’m sure I would see him soon enough to give him his 24th Birthday present.

Stifling a smile, I retorted. “Something like that.” I handed over some money adding a little extra for this time. He places the hat into a box and wraps it up with the most beautiful yellow ribbon. Yellow always was my colour. I used to wear mainly yellow and black clothing, never gold or pale. Always a mustard colour. It suited my slightly ivory skin and my blonde flowing locks.

I wandered out of the shop and headed towards my horse, Tennessee. He was a strong, black shire horse with a small strip of white down the nose. Patting him on the neck, foot in the stirrups and thrust myself into the saddle. Before tying the hatbox to my horse, I just had to take one last look. I peeled the corner of it open, and looked inside. _What was it missing?_ I thought to myself. Feeling stumped, I ended up charging back to camp with such speed, deep in thought. _What could I add to it? Something that means something, does it have to mean something? Some sort of accessory?_ THAT'S IT! I pulled a small lash of rope from my bag, cut it to length with my knife and tied it around the hat, before returned it to the box and retying the ribbon.

By the time I reached camp the sun was setting. Walking in with the box tucked under my arm, I was greeted by John. We were close friends but also around the same age. 

“Is that for Arthur?” He had this wide eyed grin on his face which slowly fell off this face, almost as if he realised something.

“Are you okay, Marston?” A bit of bounce in my voice as I happily trudged through the mud, towards my tent. It was a nice set up. Inside I had; a bed, chest for my clothes, a water basin equipped with a mirror for me to keep myself looking clean and tidy and last but not least a small table next to my bed with a single photograph propped up by a handful of books that I loved to read, Something Hosea taught me to do. The photograph was of my mother and father, both had sadly past. But that was along time ago so no point in wallowing in it now. I raised to hand to move the canvas door aside to talk in. I placed the box on my bed. Suddenly the man himself comes bursting through the canvas.

“Can I borrow your mirror please?” Like a whirlwind, he barges past me nearly knocking me over to get to the mirror.

“Good evening, Arthur.” I said drily “Are you okay?..... Oh my, is that Pomade in your hair?” I chuckled slightly as I reached a hand to touch it, but my hand was batted away. “Arthur, you’re sweating. Whats going on?” A chuckle left my lips when I look upon the sight in front of me.

“I have.... I am meeting Mary’s Father.” My blood ran cold. He didn’t turn to face me, still fiddling with his hair. Not realising what he said. Breath was hitched in my throat, eyebrow furrowed. I didn’t even realise I was hugging my own arms.

“wha ... wwhe ...Who is Mary?” He stopped dead still and turned to me. Eyes not meeting mine. He looked guilty. He clears his throat.

“She is.. urrm ... is my Fiance.” The final word of his sentence made my eyebrows shoot up. He rubs the back of his neck. Tears pricked my eyes. I just turn away from him, sitting slowly down on my bed, my palms glide against the bed sheet.

“...fiance...” My voice was quiet, trying to mask the lump forming in my throat, I coughed slightly before continuing. “I thought ... we ...” I didn’t want to continue.

“Clara” he knelt down in front of me, trying to grab my hand, but it snatched it away from him. “What we have.. had was great, I couldn't ask for anymore from you. You are an amazing person, but Mary means I can get out. Out of this life. Start something legit. Help all of you get out. Land, Money, Opportunity! ”

“Fuck you, Mr Morgan.” Voice still quiet, a warning tone almost. “Get out.” I looked him in the eyes, his mouth was flapping like a fish, trying to find something to say. I stood up and pushed him so hard in the chest that he stumbled straight out of the tent. I grab the box that sat next to me and threw it at him, hitting him square in the chest. “Happy Fucking Birthday, you fucking bastard.” Anger had completely took over me, my chest was heaving, tears flowing straight down my face, neat hair now a mess. I grabbed a small bag from under my bed and started filling it with only the objects I couldn’t live with out.

A crowd had gathered around my tent as Arthur just stares at his feet, hands on his hips. Slightly shaking his head, glancing at the box that was now covered in mud, yellow ribbon now dirtied.

I stormed out of my tent, and shoulder barged past him. My skirt soaking up the mud, but I didn’t care. Nothing could stop me from getting out, leaving this place. Nothing but Arthur's strong grip on my arm. I turn to him, waiting for him to speak.

"Look, I'm sorry... but you have got to understand" He met my eyes and I just saw red. Slapping the man I loved straight round the face. My hand stung, pain prickled through to the very tips of my fingers.

“I loved you, you know.... Fuck you, Arthur Morgan.” My voice spat venom worse than any snake ever could.

I heard him shouting my name but before he could even mount his horse, I was gone. On Tennessee, I rode as far as I probably could. East. So far East that I ended up in a small town of Valentine. Live-stock town. Nothing ever happened there and for 10 years, that is where I was content, living a simple life. Taking the name of my Husband, Henry McCree. He was a cow farmer, who lived a mile outside of town. A real sweet fellow, but knew nothing of my past. That is where our story really starts.

P.S. Fuck you, Morgan.


	2. Red Hand

Chapter Two.

For the last ten or so years, I’ve been living on my farm with my husband, Henry. Every morning, I wake up put the coffee on, let the cows out in to yard, come back and make some breakfast while Henry is out making some money. That was something that was hard to come by these days, Money. We didn’t have a lot of it. Having to sell half our herd last season just to keep food in our bellies.

“Good Morning!” Henry’s voice rather chipper, walking through the front door, kicking the mud off his boots on the doormat.

“You’re up early! Where’d you go?” I questioned as I was chopping veggies to go in the stew for supper.

“Well today is a good day indeed, my beautiful wife. I met an Austrian man in Valentine today. Or was he German.. doesn’t matter. What matters is that we have some money! I thought we could use it to buy some extra cows and make some more money at Market, Enough to pay him back!” He said as he walked across our kitchen and grabbed me around the waist! Spinning me around and pulling me towards him. I just chuckle at his actions. He always was a darlin’! But I wasn’t too sure about his deal.

“Okaay, well, you gotta let me go, unless you wanna eat raw carrot for supper.” Still laughing at his actions as he shuffles across the kitchen to the sink to wash his hands. Some would call it a little dance! It sure was happy to see him happy after the amount of stress rested on his shoulders!

* * *

It had been a few weeks since Henry came back with the money . The cows have been a pain to keep going but we will be profitable at the end of the season for sure!

“So I’m going out tonight with some of the boys. Smithfields again. Are you going to be okay here by yourself?” Henry announced as he sat on a chair on the porch pulling his boots on. The wind was howling round the old wooden shack we call home. It was the beginning of June so it was getting rather warm to be out all day in the sun.

“Of Course, you know me, I’ll just be sitting on the porch plucking at my guitar like most nights.” I answered him, my voice was soft and I can’t help but look at him in adoration. No matter what happens he has always looked after me. He kissed me on the forehead before heading out to do a full days work. I better get making him some lunch.

Later that Evening, Henry head out to play some poker and drinking a little too much. I poured myself a glass of whiskey as I moved to the porch. Guitar in hand. Plucking at the strings, Melody ringing in the air. I started to sing. My voice was very pleasant, if I do say so myself. Perfectly in tune to the song I was playing. The night quickly soured as I heard something smash inside the house. Placing the guitar down quietly.I Stood up real slow like, creek open the door making sure to not make a sound. Running with the Van Der Linde Gang means that I am too paranoid to not have a gun near at all time. Even after 10 years. Creeping through, I headed straight for the top draw of the side table that was placed next to the front door of the house. In it, lay a volcanic pistol. ‘Only for emergencies’ I thought to myself. Sliding off my shoes to make sure I really didn’t make a sound, I moved to the kitchen. The Man before me wore a Cream Wide brim hat, sweaty red shirt and a very blonde droopy moustache. He hadn’t seen me yet. That's good.

“Looking for something?” I spoke deeply, a bite of venom in my voice. This startled the man. I kept my cool make kept the gun resting next to by thigh hidden my the fabric of my skirt.

“Well... Ain’t you a pretty little thing, here all by yourself. Husband gone out?” His voice was overdrawn and low. Madness plagued his eyes. This was not his first rodeo.

“If you want food, I will feed you. Water? I will let you have some. If not, I will have to ask you to leave.” Trying to talk my way out of this as usual. Hosea Matthews, you were a good teacher. Sadly the strange man just laughed in my face, making my skin crawl.

“What a kind, young woman you are. Letting a man, such as myself, rest in your very humble abode.” This man was beginning to test my patience.

“Look... I urge you leave. I don’t want to have to shoot you.” My voice was now a warning.

“You offer me food then you want to shoot me? I heard your singing and wanted to take a look.”

“Mmhmmm...” Likely story from a man who looked like the would kill someone for looking at them wrong. “Please leave.” I didn’t raise my voice or swear, for once. Still speaking calmly.

“After a song, sweetheart.”

“Pfft.. I said.. you need. To. Leave.” I pulled the gun from behind my skirt. Pointed it at him. His eyes became wide as he started to pull his from his holster. It was like slow motion, I moved the gun towards his hand and pulled the trigger. He dropped his gun on the floor as grabbed his hand screaming in pain.

“Get. Out.”

He took that as his cue to leave and almost ran towards the door, unfortunately stopping before leaving to utter a final sentence.

“Your name is in our ledger and your time is up.” He gave a throaty chuckle before leaving quickly on his horse.

My composure broke and I grabbed my face with both of my hands, heavily breathing into my palms. Who the fuck was that?! Friends with the Austrian German Fella’?! Fuck me. Why did I shoot him?! What will Henry say? Should I even tell him?! I have to clean the blood up now!

Shit.


End file.
